Hell Hath No Fury
by Silver Weasley
Summary: Ginny discovers exactly what Harry's planning, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. HG, oneshot, written before DH.


Hell Hath No Fury

_Disclaimer: _Don't own any of it, and too tired to be clever about it.

_Summary: _

Ginny discovers exactly what Harry's planning, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. h/g, oneshot

_Author's Note:_

Boy, do I love vacation. All this extra time to write random oneshots! I know, I know, I should probably be updating _Nine Notes Later _or _Magic _but lately all I can manage are these silly little oneshots. I really like HarryGinny, but I don't think I've _ever _written a story for them and it was bothering me, so tonight I set myself the challenge of getting one done, and voila. I like Ginny's voice in here, though I've never written from her point-of-view and I'm not sure how well I managed it. I might do a companion piece for this one (_might_) if it's recieved well, but I suppose it'll all have to depend. My muses are sneaky and desert me constantly. Well, anyways, read, review, and (hopefully) enjoy!

**_ooo_**

I really feel I've done a lot for Harry Potter.

No, seriously.

I _have._

I fancy him—quite obviously, by the way—from the first moment I see him. I make an idiot out of myself trying to find ways to please him, make him fancy me back. It doesn't work, so I back off.

So you know what I do? I settle for being his _friend_, for treating him like a _brother_. I date other boys, but I never give up on him; never let myself get too deep into a relationship or feel too much because some little part of me still won't let him go.

And then in his sixth year when he _finally _comes around, _finally _wakes up and smells the pumpkin juice (like, _Oh yeah, we _are _perfect for each other!_) I barely blink an eye, don't even say, "Hey, you had your chance and you passed it by. I'm _over _you."

All I can think is _Thank Merlin_, like _I'm _the lucky one, and feel his hands on mine and let myself do the one thing I've never done before.

Get in _way _too deep.

I mean, I gave him my _heart. _That's sort of a big deal, no matter how stupid it sounds. I just knew, from that first day at the train station when we were only little kids, that the only bloke I'd ever even consider would be him.

At first it was because he was a hero. That fascinated me—that this tiny little baby could defeat the bloody Dark Lord, and here he was, acting like a regular kid (you know, when he wasn't rescuing Philosopher's Stones and stuff) and going to school and being best friends with my big brother!

And then my first year at Hogwarts, which was, up till now, the worst time in my life, he _saved _me. He and Ron went down into the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry actually risked his life and _saved _me. Part of me still can't get over that; he was just _twelve_, and there he was battling giant snakes and Voldemort's memory and _surviving, _all to rescue me (and, okay, get rid of a menace that was plaguing all the Muggle-borns at school).

I think the first time I really took a good look at Harry and actually _saw _him, I was fourteen. At that point, I'd stopped idolizing him and was getting on with my life, treating him as I would any of my brothers. It was summer and we were at Grimmauld Place and it was just before his trial—the very night before, I think.

I was going into the sitting room to read a book, but he was already there, sitting on the sofa with his head in hands.

"Hi Harry," I said softly. He looked up at me, startled, and then grinned crookedly and mumbled,

"Hey."

"Nervous about tomorrow?" I asked, sitting down tentatively beside him, not entirely sure if he'd want me to.

"Yeah, a bit." He sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed his face tiredly (this weirdly reminded me of Dad for a moment).

"You know you'll get off," I told him reassuringly, even feeling brave enough to lay a sisterly hand on his arm. "You always do—this won't be any different. I mean, you're _Harry Potter_."

"Yeah, well…I'm not sure that's enough anymore." He sank lower into the sofa again and folded his bony arms. "No good deed goes unpunished and all that, right?"

Harry looked like a fifteen-year-old kid when he said that—a scared, exhausted fifteen-year-old kid—and I think that's when I really realized that. Up until then he had been _Harry Potter_, the boy who saved me, defeated the Dark Lord. He'd been invincible, untouchable, a _hero_.

That night on the sofa, with my hand on his thin arm and the grimness on his face, I saw what he was.

Human.

Maybe that should have made me stop caring about him, made me pull back, shattered all the illusions I'd had about him, but it didn't. It just made me fall for him more.

_He needs somebody, _I thought desperately. _He needs _me.

I'd repeat that thought over and over for the better part of a year and a half, until that wonderful day when I'd run into his arms after a Quidditch match and kiss him (He says he kissed me, poor deluded boy. Ah well, males must be allowed their egos I suppose.).

You know, those few weeks we were together were the best of my life. It's strange, because it was right before O.W.L.s so you'd think I'd be panicked like the rest of the fifth years, but I never was. We were good for each other, Harry and I.

He broke-up with me, and honestly, I really thought I understood why. I thought that because Dumbledore was gone Harry thought he was the last chance; maybe he was worried that Voldemort would come after me and he'd have no way to protect me. I mean, I took it _really well. _I didn't cry all over him or beg him not to leave me or sic my brothers on him or anything! I just accepted it, because I couldn't bring myself to do anything else—not to Harry.

_It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?_

I didn't know what that reason was at the time and maybe it would've been better if I'd never found out. I know it's horrible, but part of me couldn't help but think,

_I have all summer to change his mind. I'll make him see that I can take care of myself, he'll have to stop being so stupid about this. _

Now I know why he broke-up with me.

_Now _I know what he was up to.

That prat is running away. He's running away because he thinks he has to save the world or something, and he's dragging my brother and my friend with him on his stupid quest.

He thinks he can get away with it, too, and he somehow seems to entertain the idea that I'll sit at home like a good little girl while he goes off to save the world (_again_).

You know what?

Fuck that.

I've done too much and waited too long for Harry bloody Potter, and if he gets himself killed—

Well, I would say I'd kill him, but that would be pretty redundant now that I really think about it.

Yeah, well, anyway.

He walks into the house looking properly weary and heroic and rail-thin after only a month with those damn Muggles, and the only thing I can think at first is, _Merlin, I missed him so much. _

I let Ron and Hermione do their best-friend-hugs/handshakes thing with him and let Mum worry over his skinniness and try to convince him to eat something before I close in for the kill.

I've purposefully been hanging back, and thankfully this doesn't look suspicious to anybody, because it would seem obvious things between Harry and I would be a little awkward.

Not as awkward as it will be once I've screamed my head off at him and hexed him blind, though.

I feel vaguely stalker-like as I trail him, Ron, and Hermione up the stairs, skulking in the shadows and staying back just far enough so that they can't see me, but I can hear their hushed conversation.

"…leave?" I catch the tail-end of Hermione's question.

"Soon," Ron says promptly. "After the wedding, yeah?"

"That'd be best, I think." Harry sighs in a all-too-familiar way. "Hey, Ron…where's Ginny?" I can't bite back a smirk; seems even _he _knows he won't be rid of me that easily.

"Dunno," Ron says, and you'd have to know him well to detect the hint of bitterness in his voice. He knows why Harry did what he did, but he found me crying the day we got home from school, and even as he pulled me into this fierce, un-Ron-like hug and muttered, "D'you want me to pound him for you?" we both knew that it was no use. I love my brother for that, for caring enough about his best mate and me to stay out of it.

"I think I saw her in the kitchen just before you arrived," Hermione added quietly. "I—don't take this the wrong way, Harry, but I don't think she wants to see you just now."

"I don't blame her." Harry sounds properly ashamed of himself. "I just…I mean, I feel so…so…"

"I know," Hermione says gently. There is a long pause and then Ron says gruffly,

"C'mon, let's get your things settled," and they hurry on up the stairs.

I sigh, lean against the wall, and for a moment a thousand doubts fill me, make me second-guess myself.

_He cares about you._

_Don't do this to him._

_This isn't your decision to make._

_He doesn't deserve this. _

_What if you hurt him?_

_What if he hurts you?_

Angrily, I push these aside and trudge up the stairs, because I've already made up my mind.

And besides, Harry must know this is coming, deep down inside. He _must._

I knock on Ron's door, and when he pulls it open, I get a glimpse of Harry sprawled on the cot saying something to Hermione, who's on the floor leaning against Ron's bed. Mid-sentence, his eye catches mine, and he chokes obviously, his mouth dropping open almost comically.

"Hi," I say to Ron (who looks almost as dumbfounded as Harry). "Can I come in for a second?"

"Erm," he manages, but shrugs and ushers me in all the same.

"I need to talk to you," I say to Harry before I can convince myself not to. When I'm met with silence, I add, rather coldly, "_Now._"

"Um." He glances at Ron, who simply shakes his head, and then at Hermione, who is eyeing me shrewdly. "Okay then." And he gets up off the cot and heads for the door, leaving the room before me. I turn to Ron and Hermione and say in a deadly whisper,

"I will deal with _you two _later." Not giving them a chance to ask me what I'm banging on about, I turn and swiftly march out of the room after Harry, shutting the door a bit more forcefully than normal.

"What's the proble—?" Harry begins, but is cut short as I grab him by the elbow and drag him down the hall into the bathroom, slam the door, and fold my arms angrily. "Ginny?" he asks weakly, looking wary.

"I really think," I say softly, feeling the anger of the past week bubbling under the surface, "that you know me better than this, Harry."

"Uh—"

"Hiding things from me does not work," I cut in pointedly. "It never has."

"Hiding—" This time, he cuts himself off and narrows his eyes at me. "_Ginny._"

"Oh, don't take that tone with me," I spit irritably. "You know, it's not me you should be glaring at like that, it's Ron and Hermione. I just _happened _to come across them in the orchard, having a nice little chat about leaving and what they were going to tell people. Lucky it was me and not Mum, at least for _their _sake."

"God." I have to bite back an affectionate smile; Harry says Merlin every now and again, but his Muggle upbringing did leave its mark. "You know, eavesdropping is really not an attractive habit."

"Neither is lying," I return snippily. "Or running away."

"There was a reason I did what I did, Ginny!" Harry says hotly. "You don't know everything."

"I know enough," I respond. "You think I don't know what a Horcrux is? Do you think it never occurred to me to ask Dumbledore how the hell that diary possessed me and why?" I glare at him. "_He _thought I had a right to know."

"You—wait…_what?_"

"I didn't know there were seven of them," I continue, "but Dumbledore explained the general principle of it to me last year. I asked him when I was eleven, see, but he either didn't know then or thought I was too young to know, I'm not sure."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Same reason _you _didn't tell _me, _I expect." I glower at him. "I wanted to protect you. I thought it'd just get you more nervous and upset than you already were."

"Well…That still doesn't mean…Ginny, I'm sorry for the break-up, but—"

"This isn't about that!" Okay, _now _I can feel that anger reaching boiling point. "This is about you not trusting me enough to talk to me and then _leaving _me—leaving us _all_—and taking my brother and Hermione with you! This is about you getting it into your head that you have to save the entire world!"

"I _do _have to save the entire world!" Harry bellows. "Don't you get it? It's _my _responsibility and people are just going to keep dying unless I do it!"

"You're seventeen, Harry! You still have another year of school!"

"_So what?!"_ He looks mightily enraged himself by this point; I forgot how easy it is to get him like that. "Dumbledore was training me for this all last year! What good will school be to me when Voldemort's destroyed everything? I have to kill him, Ginny, that's the only way."

"I know," I say simply, and I stare at him pointedly. "Nice to hear it from _you._"

"Oh." Some sort of recognition blossoms in his face, and he takes a step forward. "Ginny—"

"I'm not going to pretend that it didn't sting a little, that you were keeping things from me." I turn. "Harry, I'm a big girl, okay? I…I care about you. I'm not going to crumble from the weight of your secrets or not be strong enough to take them."

"I never thought that." His voice is quieter now. "I just wanted to—to—"

"Protect me," I supply. "You're always doing that, you know."

"I care about you, too," he says. "I mean, like a lot. People I care about tend to die."

"That doesn't mean you should stop caring, then," I say hotly. "Ron and Hermione have managed to survive seven years of close friendship with you, if you hadn't noticed."

"I noticed," he says, "but that's different."

"How?"

"Voldemort takes away people I love." He doesn't look at me when he says this; his cheeks are very red. "Okay? He took away my mum and dad, who would have and still do protect me. He took away Sirius, who was the next thing to a parent I ever had. He took away Dumbledore, who was like this mentor, the one person I could depend on to keep me safe. I love Ron and Hermione, but it's different—they're like my brother and sister—but…they're my equals, you know? They can't protect me like a parent can and they're kids too; I doubt Voldemort sees them as a real threat." He pauses, looks at me intently. "But if he gets rid of _you…_you may be my equal, you may be a kid, but if ever found out how far I'd fallen for you, it would be like the ultimate weapon. I could _never _see you used that way, not on my account."

"That's all very lovely, Harry," I say, unable to fight the sarcasm in my tone, "but I don't think you understand. I'm not a weak little girl, I can fight, and I _want _to fight. If Voldemort kills me, then he kills me."

"Ginny!"

"Seriously, Harry, what difference will it make? You leave me here, Voldemort could just as easily send Death Eaters to get me then if I were with you." I fold my arms. "If he doesn't already know we were dating, Malfoy will tell him—and anyways, my family's already a huge target as it is. Don't you think I'd be _safer _with you?"

The look on his face seems to say this has never occurred to him, though I don't know why it wouldn't have.

And then, suddenly, I do.

"You really thought Hogwarts could keep me safe?"

"It's just…I'm so used to thinking that…" He sighs, buries his face in his hands. "I just associate it with invincibility. Pretty stupid, I know."

"It's not stupid."

"Merlin, you're right. Why are you so right?"

"If you care about me like I think you do," I say, "you'll let me help you. You…you need me Harry." I pause. "And I need you. Okay?"

"I still don't want you to come." Harry looks up, exhaustion all over his face. "I just want you to be happy, you know that, right?"

"I'm not going to be happy for a long time Harry. I know that as well as anyone." I take a few steps closer, take his hands. "_Let me come._"

"Ron won't like it."

"Since when do I care what Ron thinks? Let me come."

"It'll be dangerous."

"So is riding the Knight Bus, but I've survived that, haven't I?'

"It's going to be hard traveling. That means showering rarely and bad food."

"So what? I can take it."

"Your mother will skin me alive."

"Not if I get there first." I lean in, glower at him. "_Let. Me. Come._"

"I really don't—"

"LET ME COME!" I holler. "For the love of Merlin, I have waited for you, pined after you, took up your Quidditch position _twice_, given you your space, dated you—you at _least _owe me this!"

"You know, you're pretty cute when you're angry—agh! No, please, don't hex me—okay, okay, you can _come! _No really, you can! Put down the wand!"

"You are pathetic," I say, grinning triumphantly as Harry peeks out from his hiding place behind the bath tub. "I'm still underage, you know."

"Not like that'd stop you doing magic outside of school," he pants. "Merlin…" He warily approaches me, puts his hands on my shoulders. "Is it safe to say I'm sorry?"

"I'm expecting it." I grin cheekily up at him.

"I really _am_ sorry, you know," he says seriously. "It wasn't that I didn't trust you. Dumbledore told me I shouldn't tell anyone but Ron and Hermione and…well, I really _do _want you to be safe." He frowns. "I still don't like the idea of you following us along on this quest."

"And I really don't like the idea of sitting around Hogwarts like a good little girl."

"I know, you made that pretty clear." He rubs his forehead wearily and frowns. "I wish you didn't like me so much."

"Hey!"

"Just think—you could have any bloke you wanted, and somehow you're all involved with me."

"You're the only bloke I want," I tell him honestly. "I didn't give up on you before, and I'm not giving up on you now. Happy endings don't matter— love just doesn't work like that."

His face goes red again, but I don't care.

"I'll go wherever you do, Harry. Don't be afraid of this," I tell him. "Don't run away from it." Hell if I know, we could be dead by tomorrow. _Come on, Harry. Stop standing there like an idiot and say something._

Finally Harry reaches a hand up to smooth back my hair, and grins a bit

"Wasn't planning on it," he says softly.

"Good."

Then Harry leans down and does what we've all been waiting for—he kisses me (or at least, I'll let _him _think that.).


End file.
